


I Await Your Response

by learningthetrees



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types, Hannibal Lecter Tetralogy - Thomas Harris
Genre: Angst, F/M, Letters, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 08:22:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25347652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/learningthetrees/pseuds/learningthetrees
Summary: Will receives three letters from Hannibal.
Relationships: Molly Graham & Will Graham, Molly Graham/Will Graham
Kudos: 13





	I Await Your Response

He wrote them because it was the only thing he could still do. Gone were the days when he could sit across from his former-protégé, whispering honeyed poison in his ear. Now, his only visitors were psychiatrists and orderlies who only occasionally spoke to him through thick panes of fiberglass. All he had left were pencils and paper, and so he wrote.

* * *

The first one arrived a few days after the trial had ended, after the guilty verdict and the nine consecutive life sentences had been handed down. When he was away from the courtroom, Will had avoided the newspaper stories that called Hannibal a monster and himself a hero. He didn’t feel heroic. But on the day the verdict was reached, his mailbox was full to bursting. Two newspapers, one with a brief note from Jack and one sporting Freddie Lounds’ byline, various letters of thanks from law enforcement officials, an offer for a commendation from the FBI, and a plain, white envelope stamped with a notice from the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane.  
  
Will’s hands shook as he held the envelope gingerly between his fingers, letting all the other pieces of mail flutter to the ground. Slowly and inexorably, he tore open the envelope, the letter containing the same magnetic pull as the dangerous man who penned it. He unfolded the single sheet of paper to see the doctor’s slender script:

_Dear Will,_   
  
_By now you have no doubt heard of my permanent incarceration. Although I know your testimony played a part in the verdict, I hold no blame against you. You are, just as I am, a victim of fate and circumstance. I wonder whether you ever feel yourself slipping out of touch, tempted to draw a clock to ground yourself to reality again. Tell me, Will, even when you stand in the quiet of your stream, do you question your reality?_   
  
_I await your response._

_Hannibal Lecter_

His fingers still quivering, Will tore the paper in two pieces, then four, and so on, rending the words until they were no longer recognizable and they lay in miniscule shreds on the ground below. He drew a deep breath, shaky from the memories of having been blinded and broken, but also from anger. Will was angry, livid, _seething_ that Hannibal could still reach him—that a high-security cell was nothing to stop him from infiltrating Will’s mind again, that in their time together, Will had given him everything he needed to tear open wounds and bleed him out yet again.   
  
Will left the shredded letter lying in the dust.

* * *

The second letter was delivered along with the barrage of wedding RSVPs. Will was in such a hurry opening the responses that he didn’t notice the institutional red stamp. He froze when he recognized the handwriting and then tossed the letter away from him across the table, like its contact with his skin might burn him.   
  
Molly entered the kitchen, running her hand lightly over Will’s back as she passed him. She paused to peer over his shoulder at the heap of envelopes just as Will scrambled to cover the letter he’d thrown away. Molly noticed—she noticed whenever he was hiding something, she just didn’t always mention it—and her brows creased. “What is it?” she asked, not referring to the piece of paper, but to Will’s sudden distress.  
  
If there was anything Will hated more than worrying Molly, it was lying to her. He picked up the letter gingerly, between two fingers, and offered it to her. She hesitantly took it, her eyes scanning over the first few lines before she looked away and set it back down on the table.   
  
“Does he write to you often?” she asked. Her voice sounded as though she was trying not to throw up.  
  
“No,” Will replied honestly. “This was the first one in a while. I guess I was hoping…foolishly…that he’d forgotten about me.”  
  
Will looked up to see silent tears streaming down Molly’s cheeks. She hurriedly tried to brush them away, but he saw. Will sprang to his feet and wrapped his arms around her, stroking her hair as she pressed her forehead to his neck.  
  
“He scares me, Will,” she admitted without moving from his embrace.   
  
“ _Shh_ ,” he cooed, uncertain of what else to say, uncertain of what this unwanted correspondence meant to her. 

“I know what he can do,” she continued. “I know what he did to you.”

Her fear was evident to him; her fear was now his. She wasn’t just afraid for herself: she was a selfless being, and she was scared for the sake of her son. She was scared for Will, too. He knew she was wondering how much more exposure to Dr. Lecter Will could stand—he often wondered the same thing. It was enough that he was bringing his emotional baggage into her family; he didn’t want her to suffer for it, too. She deserved better than that.

“Molly, look at me,” he said, smoothing her hair away from her face and settling his gaze on her. Molly pulled away just enough to look him in the eyes, her eyes still wet and her cheeks glistening. “I promise I will never let him hurt you.” Another tear streaked down Molly’s cheek, and Will wiped it away with his thumb. “I _promise_.”  
  
He pulled her to him again, and she folded into him like they were designed to fit. The letter lay unread on the table. 

* * *

Molly burned the next letter without telling Will. On her way into the house, with the dogs at her heels, she’d stopped at the box to grab the mail. Behind the house, Will stood ankle deep in the bay with Willy, demonstrating how to cast the fishing line out across the water. Molly smiled and continued through the door, holding it open for the dogs to follow, their nails clattering on the kitchen floor as they raced each other to their food dishes. 

She flipped through each piece of mail, setting aside the bills and junk into separate piles until she was left holding a white envelope with a red stamp.   
  
She set her jaw, her body tensing and her fingers tightening on the envelope. Will had been doing so well lately: fewer bad dreams, more carefree laughter, bonding with Willy. No one had mentioned the doctor in months, and Molly didn’t know what the sight of this new letter might do to Will, to her, to them.   
  
Almost without thinking, she turned on the gas stove and lit one of the burners. She was infuriated with Lecter’s insistence on contacting Will, tired of his trying to upset Will’s life. Will didn’t need to know about this latest letter—he would refuse to write back, anyway.   
  
Molly held the envelope above the small flame, watching as the corner ignited and the curling flames engulfed the paper. She imagined the harmful words inside searing and vanishing, just as she often imagined the horrors of Will’s past melting away. The fire inched its way closer to her fingers, so she dropped the burning envelope into the sink. It smoked and burned until it was nothing but a scattering of ashes.

Behind her, the kitchen door opened. Willy rushed in first, clutching his fishing rod in one hand and a still squirming trout in the other. “Mom, look!” he exclaimed, brandishing the fish. Will appeared in the doorway behind him, watching with an amused expression on his face.

“Be careful not to drop it,” he warned.  
  
“Look what we caught,” Willy said. Molly looked from Willy’s proud grin to Will’s slight smile, just as proud but in a fatherly way. She forgot about the smoldering ashes in the sink.

* * *

Will had to steel himself to walk down the hall of the State Hospital. He had been down this hall before, but as a patient, confined in a jumpsuit and a face mask.

Now, Will was a free man, acquitted and commended, but the sense of dread that had accompanied his first journey down this hall had returned. If it was up to him, he’d never step foot in this building again, not after his months of captivity, but Jack had been adamant that Lecter might be able to provide crucial information on the Tooth Fairy. Will passed each empty cell, the anxiety in his stomach twisting tighter with each step. Finally, he reached the last cell on the left, and beyond the thick fiberglass wall sat the doctor. He stood when he saw Will approach, and a thin smile alighted on his lips.

“Hello, Will.”

“Hello, Dr. Lecter.”

“Did you get my letters?”  
  
Will swallowed the hurt that was resurfacing.  
  
“Yes, I did.”


End file.
